The journey changed after that. It may sound hyperbolic, but the truth is, I think the poems were checking whether I had any vision for the body of work. Whether I had been noticing the whole while following the parts. In this midst of this, I laid the poems on the floor in the newest order I was "orchestrating" at that moment. And I found myself back at the perennial question: Is this whole?

In the middle of the meadow that stretches in front of our future house, we came across a forgotten bird's nest. I don't know what kind of bird had made this nest or the type of bush the nest had been so carefully attached to. The land is another kind of neighborhood where I don't know many of the neighbors yet. I know the hawk, the heron, the willows, and the bur oaks best so far. But it's a meager knowing for now, and every time we walk, I learn how much I don't know.